


Idle Time

by selfmanic



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, M/M, Multi, Pre-Reichenbach, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-06
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-11-28 10:38:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/673457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selfmanic/pseuds/selfmanic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John meet someone new tying up leads on a case for Lestrade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Investigations

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work in progress and the chapters and scenes will be edited and changed as needed.

“This is ridiculous.” Sherlock spat as they paid the cabby, tugging his coat and blue scarf closer about his body in the wind. “Why would he send us to track down a wayward witness. It makes no sense. We should be working on a higher priority case, not tracking down witness statements.”  
“Well, after how the last case turned out, we owe one or two to Lestrade. If he wants us to track down a witness for him while he is swamped with half the force out with the flu, we can, it’s not like we are busy with another case.” John reminded him with a sigh, thrusting his hands deeper in his jacket.  
“Why exactly was she not able to give her statement at the scene?”  
“The report said she was ill. It was a junior officer so that is all there really is.” John said, scrubbing a hand along the back of his neck, “She did see a guy get shot in the head, Sherlock, that’s enough to make most people ill.”  
“Name?”  
“You didn’t even read the report did you?” John asked exasperated. Sherlock made an absent sound and kept walking, they were still a few blocks from the apartment building.  
“Low rent apartments in a slightly affluent area...student?”  
“No idea, there was not much to the report. Her name is Lorn McCray, she live in apartment 415, and she was heading to a local art store when the shooting happened.”  
“So basically a random bystander.” Sherlock muttered. “Fake name or had it legally changed.” He waved at John for him to continue.  
“The interviewing officer was a rookie who let her go after getting her basic information. She was supposed to turn up yesterday to hand in a statement and never showed.”  
“Dull.”  John gave a small sigh and glanced at his flatmate, he strode along coat billowing out behind him in the wind, the faint check to his stride the only thing that was allowing John’s shorter legs to keep in step.  
“Well, it’s better this than you prowling around the apartment shooting holes in the wall, with my gun at that.” John groused, “Here.” he said, opening the door and gesturing Sherlock through. An elevator ride later they were knocking on the door to apartment 415. After a short wait, the door opened a crack, “Miss McCray? I’m John Watson, this is Sherlock Holmes, we are assisting the police in investigating the shooting you were near two days ago. May we come in?”  
“Sure, just let me get cleaned up a bit, have a seat.” A woman’s voice said in an american accent. The door swung open and they caught the back of their host disappearing around a corner in a grey dressing gown. A moment later she came back out in a pair of jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt. The room was dark, only the faint light of one covered window filtering in. She moved like every motion hurt as she shuffled to the couch and curled up, one hand propping her head up, the other gripping the back of her neck.  
“Mind if I turn on a light?” Sherlocked asked as he turned on a side lamp, the woman flinched at the sudden light, a small sound of pain escaping her lips, closing her eyes like she was in pain.  
“Ah, sorry.” John said, gesturing for Sherlock to turn off the light. “You have a migraine.”  
“Yeah, since the night of the shooting. Should be the last day today if it takes the normal progression. I am sorry about the statement, I lost track of the days. I will write it up and  take it to the station tomorrow.” She said swallowing thickly for a moment. She was pale with dark circles under her eyes and lines of pain and tension creasing her face. Sherlock was scanning the room peering at various things with a frown on his face. He reached out and plucked John’s phone from his coat pocket ignoring the slight look he got in return, sending off a quick text.  
“Are you up to answering a few questions for us or would you rather wait till tomorrow when you go into make your statement?” John asked gently, pitching his voice low so it would not aggravate her head.  
“You're already here, you might as well ask. Not sure how good I will be at answering but I’ll give it a go.”  
“What color was the victim's jacket?” Sherlock asked, his voice loud in the small room making Lorn flinch again.  
“Blue or black. He was wearing a baseball cap and jeans.”  
“What about his attacker?”  
“Something dark, a suit maybe. I was walking toward them and saw the sun glint off the gun, it drew my eye. He said something and then pulled the trigger. I lost sight of him in all the chaos.” she said rubbing at her eyes with one hand.  
“The report said you were on your way to an art supply store. Which one?”  
“The brush and stone, it’s a few blocks away. I was going to pick up some more paint for a project.” She said gesturing to a side room.  
“May I?” Sherlock asked, already getting up and heading into the spare room, the light being turned on and door pushed to behind him to block the glare.  
“I know my reaction time sucks at the moment but is he always like that?” the woman asked with slightly blurry look.  
“Afraid so, I’m sorry if he comes off as a bit rude...” John trailed off.  
“Oh, no. You misunderstand. I admire people who are able to be that focussed on their work. They burn with it, it’s beautiful.” she murmured. “I’m sorry, I’m not making sense am I? It’s the migraine medication.”  
“No it’s fine.” John murmured, watching as Sherlock re-entered the room. She had a point, Sherlock burned with his genius when they were on a case.  
“I think that was all, we’ll call if we have any other questions.” Sherlock said, “No, don’t stand up, we will show ourselves out.”  
“Hope you feel better soon.” John said with a small smile as they ducked out the door.  
“Find anything?” John asked once they were back on the street.  
“A few things. What did you think of her?”  
“Well, she was not faking the migraine, she was in real pain. Her pupils were not evenly dilated which is common in migraines, photo and noise sensitivity, problems with balance, nausea. No idea if she is a competent witness or not, seemed to get the details correct.”  
“Yes, surprising since she was in a large amount of pain. Wouldn’t that much pain effect the memory of past events or recall of fine detail?”  
“Migraines are different for every patient. Some are barely able to think at all while others don’t have that issue. She might just be one of those.”  
“Witnesses are almost always unreliable yet she got the pertinent details correct, why?”  
“Maybe she has edic memory or something, does it matter?” John asked.  
“Yes, she is going to an art show on Friday. I think we should put in an appearance.” he said catching John’s eye.  
“So she is a suspect now?”  
“No, just interesting.” John sighed. “What did you think of her?” He frowned trying to see which angle Sherlock was interested in.  
“She seemed nice, focused on what she was discussing considering how much pain she seemed to be in. She actually seemed to like you trying to interrogate her which is new.” He scratched at one eyebrow glancing at Sherlock for a moment before continuing, “Why are you asking?”  
“She is interesting. She notices things, remembers them. She has seemingly random hobbies that she does, horseback riding, painting, making jewelry, tai chi. She goes to art galleries, zoos and museums for fun but generally by herself. She has few friends but has utter trust in the few that she does have.”  
“How on earth would you know how many friends she has?” John asked grabbing Sherlocks sleeve and pulling him to a stop.  
“Phone contacts, lots of contacts but only calls one or two with any frequency.”  
“Well, I am not sure how having random hobbies is rational enough to stalk the girl.” John muttered.  
“It’s not stalking, she might be an asset.” Sherlock said starting to walk away, John hurrying to catch up.  
“What, as a member of your homeless network?” John snapped, trying not to picture the pale woman out on the streets or under a bridge.  
“No, as a friend. You were the one that said I need to work on cultivating more friendships.” Sherlock said lengthening his stride. John trotted to catch up. “You cannot make real friends when the people only see you as someone seeking information about them so if we go to a social event where she will also be in attendance than we can  start having the normal conversations one has with their friends instead of only talking about the case.”  
“Ok, I suppose that makes sense.” John conceded. With a small smile Sherlock hailed a cab, soon they were back on their way to the Inspector to drop off their report and to try and find another case to keep Sherlock interested.


	2. Rules

Lorn stood to one side of the gallery staring at a painting as if trying to memorize it. Her small body was swallowed up in a thick black pea coat. Sherlock gave a wry grin when he realized that in her boots she was exactly the same height as John. Her dark reddish brown hair was cut into a bob with the track lighting adding random glints of color to its dark hue.

“You know, I think you are allowed to take a picture if you like.” Sherlock said from a few steps behind her. She grinned and tilted her head showing him the sapphire blue beads she was wearing as they swung with the motion.  
“Caught me staring?” she asked, turning back to face the painting. “I wish I could paint for real instead of the dabbling I do. I want to try incorporating the shadows like they did.”    
“So, Detective, ran away from your partner so soon?” she asked as she moved on to the next panel.  
“John’s hitting the bar, I think.”  she flicked her gaze along him for a moment before turning back to the painting.  
“Here for business or pleasure, Mr. Holmes?” she paused before the name as if unsure if she had got it right, giving a small smile when he did not correct her.  
“Pleasure; I admit, I did see the flyer at your place but it sounded like a good show. John has been bugging me that we need to get out more anyway.”  
“You two live together I take it?”  
“Yes.”  
“But you're not together.” she said with a note of certainty making Sherlock glance at her in surprise.  
“No, but most people assume so.” he said watching her with intensity.  
“I can see why.” she said moving to the next painting and making a happy sound as she examined it.  
“Care to elaborate?” he asked glancing back to spot John at the bar accepting three drinks.  
“You move around each other like people who have lived together for years, normally that means in a relationship. At my place you grabbed John’s phone out of his coat without even a blink, most people would have said something, he just let you and kept right on going. You check the room to see where he is, but so does he, you two are used to watching each other’s backs in your work right?”  
“Exactly.” Sherlock said softly.  
“You two fit together well, complementing each other’s actions without thought, makes you a great team but most people are going to look at that and say you're dating since that is most often when you see that kind of trust between two people.” she paused for a moment, “It must be nice.” she said with a small note of wistfulness in her voice.  
“You don’t have anyone you trust that fully?”  
“I used to. No one in my life right now though.”  
“Ah, John. Thank you,” he said taking one of the glasses of white wine, “I am sure you remember Lorn?”  
“Yes, pleasure to see you again. I saw Sherlock talking and snagged you a drink, I hope you don’t mind.”  
“No, that’s thoughtful, thank you. How are you two liking the show so far?”  
“Not really my area I’m afraid.” John said with a small frown, eying the painting they were across from.  
“Military?”  
“Retired, how did you know?” John asked looking slightly concerned.  
“You carry yourself like it. I had a few friends in the states who were career military, they had a way of standing at attention or parade rest even when they were just walking around relaxed.” she said nudging John with her shoulder and giving him a grin so he would see she was not being mean about it. Sherlocked watched the exchange fascinated. John was always one to enjoy a woman’s company but Lorn was making him relax and smile in amusement which normally did not happen until he was dating the woman. He noted that she pretended to take a sip of her drink before allowing it to be collected by a circulating waiter.  
“You don’t drink? I’m sorry, I just assumed.” John babbled, catching the small deception as well.  
“Hey, chill darling.” John shivered slightly either from the hand she stroked along his hand or the thick southern accent that dripped from the last word. “I do drink but it is one of my triggers for migraines so I just don’t want to tempt fate at the moment, not when I am enjoying the evening.” she cocked her head at them for a moment before continuing, “I was planning to head home after the show but would you two like to go get coffee somewhere?”  
John gave a relieved nod and glanced at Sherlock to get his assent.  
“There is a small cafe a few blocks from here if you are up for a bit of a walk.” Sherlock offered.  
“Sounds lovely.” Lorn said with a grin.  
  


The walk and the conversation afterwards was even better, Sherlock mused. Lorn was well read and those books she had not heard of or read she noted the titles in her phone to check out later. She made sure to bring John back into the conversation at various points asking about the military. She asked about their cases and picked up on details that the police on the cases had overlooked originally. Even if she did not understand some of the information she would press for details until she could have some frame of reference. Added to that she seemed physically attracted to both of them so  even if the friendship did not work out John might at least get a few dates out of the endeavor.

John was happily discussing medical procedures with her after it turned out she was trained as a pharmacy technician and worked in Healthcare Information Technology in the states. She had just applied for a position at Barts even but had yet to hear anything back. John had recently been sacked from his temp job and was thinking about applying for floating shifts at Barts as well. They commiserated about being unemployed with Lorn going off on the crap TV on during the day with John. With John happily planning a Dr Who night when it was revealed that she had only seen a few episodes. They escorted her back to her place only to be stopped by the utter lack of furniture and boxes everywhere.

“Moving?” John asked.  
“Yeah, I have to find a new place by the end of the month. They are selling this one out from under me.” she said with a grimace.  
“Don’t take this as weird, but there is an opening in our building right now. We could introduce you to the owner, Mrs. Hudson if you are interested.”  
“I won't take a gift horse in the mouth.” she muttered pulling out a scrap of paper and scribbling on it, “Here, my number, call me later with the details or if either of you want to meet up for coffee or something again. I did have a great time tonight, and for the record I have no idea why everyone keeps saying you two are in a relationship.”  
John went beet red at this while Sherlock grinned.  
“Not that you two would not be fun to date.” she added flicking her gaze over the two of them, “Of course you would have to learn how to share first.” she said with an evil grin making John sputter.  
“What exactly do you mean by that?” John demanded.  
“You two are nearly always together, you work together, live together, who says you cannot date together. Anyway it would be a great combination.” She turned to John with a smile and took one step into his personal space making him shift back against the boxes. “Your used to following orders in your life so you are able to do so in bed but would rather be the one making the decisions. However, since you are used to taking orders you know how to soften the demands so that it does not feel like you are lording over your lover, you're willing to cuddle and kiss for hours simply because your partner wants too.” She turned and slid her gaze along the long length of Sherlock’s body. “Sherlock on the other hand is used to being in control, needs it. It would take a massive amount of trust for him to lose that control infront of someone. Your are probably the only one that ever gets to see him like that John, and that is why it would have to be both of you or neither. He cannot give that  amount of trust to someone he just met, but then, neither can I.” she said softly stepping away from them. “Think about it, boys. If it bothers you then we stay friends and leave it at that. Call me later.” she said simply showing them out and closing the door after them.  
  
John cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable.  
“Home?” Sherlock suggested softly.  
“Yeah.” John agreed making his escape down the stairs. Neither of them liked being laid bare to someone they just met. Maybe that was why people tended to get annoyed when he did it to them, Sherlock thought absently letting his mind pick apart everything about the conversation and how each of them had reacted once they were back in her flat.  


He sprawled on the couch as he reran the conversations of the evening and the various topics, how Lorn had reacted to both John and himself. He had to admit that she was attractive but he had long ago learned to ignore such factors in his life. There were positives to such an arrangement, especially if she did move into the building. John would no longer be randomly out on dates after all. If they were both in the relationship he would have something else to occupy some of his time between experiments and cases, the woman was interesting, certainly more interesting than any of the other women John had tried to date. It might be worth the occasional discomforts and annoyances to not have to deal with any more idiotic Sarahs or Janets.

 ****  
“John?” he called, after a moment John rattled down the stairs to his bedroom.  
“You need something?”  
“How would it work?” John sighed and went to his chair and got settled.  
“How would what work?”  
“A relationship between the three of us?”  
“Please tell me you’re not actually considering it?” John said shocked.  
“Why not?” Sherlocked asked, turning to look at the other man.  
“Because at some point we would probably have to have sex or make out in front of each other, eventually.” he amended, slowly going red.  
“Eventually.” Sherlock waved that away with one hand, “Before that we would what...date?”  
“Well, yeah. Go out, have dinner, have conversations.”  
“Like tonight.” Sherlock pointed out gently.  
“Yeah, like tonight.” John agreed slowly.  
“Then why not give it a try? If it does not work then we just gain a friend. Where is the harm?”  
“Ignoring the huge possibility for embarrassment and gossip by everyone we know?”  
“Since when have we ever cared what other people think. Far as everyone is concerned you're a crazy army vet who runs around getting dragged into dangerous situations by a sociopathic consulting detective. When has their opinion ever mattered?” Sherlocked asked looking John in the eyes. “As long as I know we have each other’s back and the work still comes first, what will it change?”  
“Sherlock, it could change everything. Maybe not with the work but with how we react to each other at home. What if we get jealous of each other spending time with Lorn or dislike having to share?”  
“Then we set up some ground rules. If you are worried about jealousy than we will have to be very open about everything, talk about it.”  
“Sherlock, we’re English. We don’t talk about anything.”  
“We could try.” he insisted.  
“You are determined to try this aren't you?” John said with a sigh. “What about me huh? I like her, heck she would even be great to date but what happens when you get bored with this experiment, huh? What happens to me when she decides that she does not want to be with me if you are not part of the equation? I know you dislike sentiment but I cannot be in a relationship without it. I feel for the people I am dating and I don’t want her or myself hurt because of your lack of....”  
“Sentiment.”  
“Yes. I need it, even if you don’t want it.” John said exasperated.  
Sherlock made a vague sound before waving away the topic, “Ground Rules.”  
“You are impossible. If we are considering this than Lorn needs to be here for any discussion about rules since she would need to add any she wanted as well.” John snapped getting up and noisily making a cup of tea. Once he had drank one cup and fixed himself another he went back to the chair.  
“You really want to try this?”  
“Yes, John, I do.”  
“Then we start slow, with the dating.” John said slowly, his mind slowly piecing each fact together, “That award thing of Lestrade’s is coming up in a few weeks. We could take her to dinner and go to the party after. See how our other friends like her, Molly and Lestrade. See if she wants to come over of a movie night  one night we don’t have a case. We take it slow, see if we can be comfortable with her in our lives, than if that works we can try to go farther.”  
“You’re saying we should court her.”  
“That is the general idea when you are dating, Sherlock; You see if the other person would be a good fit in your life.” John could tell he was restraining some comment about dating in general. “If you want this to work with both me and you than you do have to participate you know. That does not mean you have to change at all, be your normal annoying brilliant self, if she won't accept how you act in everyday life than there is no real point to any of this. ”  
“Like Sara and Janet.” Sherlock muttered. “She will need to know the work comes first.” he said firmly making John sigh.  
“Yeah, rule 1.”


	3. Errands

They were trooping up the stairs to see Lorn a few days later, the last case having petered out.  
“I still say we should have called first.” John was telling Sherlock as he fought to keep up with his longer limbed friend. Lorn raised an eyebrow from where she was closing the door. “Miss me already?”  
“Something like that, we hoped you would have time for a coffee or something?” John said his ears red with embarrassment.  
“Heading out?” Sherlock asked, eyeing her outfit. She wore grey slacks and boots with a button down top under her jacket and a long Indian scarf looped around her neck, gloves in one hand.  
“I have a few errands to run, you are welcome to join me but I am not sure if I will be very good company or not.”  
“We don’t want to intrude.” John said hastily, “We can come back.”  
“No, you are already here and clearly wanted to talk about something, you’re welcome to come. I just have two stops to make than we can head to your place if you like. You can show me around, maybe I can meet your landlady, see the apartment that’s available.”  
“Sounds good.” John said his voice heavy with relief. Sherlock merely followed behind them as they headed down the street, observing.  
The first stop was a small catholic church a few blocks away. They stood back as Lorn crossed herself and lit a candle before kneeling for a moment in prayer. Standing she returned and took both their arms, “One last stop, you might enjoy this one a bit more.” she said with a grin.  
“I did not take you for the religious type.” Sherlock said, raising one arm to hail a cab.  
“I’m not.” Lorn said with a small smile, “My mother was the religious one of the family.”  
The address she rattled off made Sherlock gaze at her with a bit of surprise. She reached out and took his hand, “Do you mind?” he shook his head and watched as she removed his glove and examined the callouses and small scars that covered his hands, stroking the long fingers and feeling how the bones and muscles moved under his skin. He took one of her own in his hands after a while raising an eyebrow over the state of her nails.  
“I know, it’s a bad habit.”  
“What is?” John asked, leaning forward. She gave him her other hand to examine.  
“I bite my cuticles. I have never been able to break the habit.”  
“And you worked in health care?” John said slightly shocked.  
“I know, but when I am in the hospital I double glove and obsess about washing my hands.”  
“Doesn't it hurt?” John asked running his fingers along her thumb where the skin had been peeled off repeatedly and was left rough like a callous forming. Red areas and tiny spots of blood wrapped around the edges of most of her nails.  
“No, I don’t even realize I am doing it half the time.”  
“Well, we will never have a lack of DNA if you are ever part of a crime scene.” Sherlock said softly, John grinning as Lorn gave a throaty laugh.  
They arrived at the address and Lorn paid for the cab before the men could get out their wallets. She gave them a cheeky grin and lead the way into the shop, a tattoo parlor. She slid off her coat and scarf as they waited for the owner. A moment later a pierced and tattooed woman stepped out of a side door.  
“Lorn, right on time.” she stepped forward and gave Lorn a hug. “You have the idea for the next line?”  
“Right here.” Lorn said handing her a scrap of paper. “Meg, these are my friends Sherlock and John.”  
“Pleasure to meet you two. Neither of you are bothered by blood right? Had a girl’s boyfriend laid out on the floor last night, can’t stand fainters.” She was a tall woman with blonde dreads and tattoo covered arms, her perfect vowels and polished cadence a deliberate dichotomy to her appearance.  
“No, we should be fine.” Sherlock said with a grin, taking off his scarf and coat.  
“Pass over your coats and I’ll stash them in the back. Need to get a coat rack for out here. We keep the place a bit warm I am afraid, nothing like trying to tattoo someone who’s shivering.” she laughed.  
“So what are we doing today. The new line and some touch up or continuing up the shoulders?”  
Lorn glanced at the two men, “Just the new line I think, I can come back in a few days to get the shoulders done if that’s OK.”  
They were shown into a side room with the standard tattoo parlor chair. Lorn unbuttoned her top and then pulled off the shirt that was under it to reveal a black bra and criss crossing scars that covered her back, arms and stomach. Lorn studiously ignored the two men, letting the shirts fall to the floor before straddling the chair so her back was exposed, her face turned away from them. Each scar on her back had been tattooed various colors on one side of her spine while on the other side lines of words were stacked, flowing down in various fonts all done in black ink. This was the area that the tattoo artist began to prep for the next addition, today’s date from when Lorn was eight if Sherlock’s guess at her age was right. The rest of the words seemed random, rage done in italics, pain in bold font, courage in cursive, the Japanese character for strength, “in my head”. It was a mix mash of words and phrases that only had meaning to Lorn.  
The scars on her shoulders had only been partly colored over with lines of red and blue. He stepped back a step supporting himself against the wall as the reasoning clicked into place. This was her armor, forged out of the pain and fear that she had lived though. She had taken the scars she was given as a child and turned them into art. It was beautiful. The thin dashes of black and purple across her lower back, whip marks, the lines of blue, green, and magenta that lay vertical angles along her skin were from a belt. The deeper cuts notching her spine and shoulders were from a knife, someone carefully cutting the skin to deliberately cause scars, flaying skin from muscle. Those continued down her arms and stopped just past her elbows. He was frozen tracing each line. He knew John was watching him concerned but he could not make his eyes stop trying to see the pattern to the scars, like her body was an abstract painting. John walked around the the front of the chair and knelt next to it talking to Lorn in low tones, soft pleasant conversation about tattoos and dinner and other nonsense. Sherlock tuned it out.

It seemed he only blinked and they were getting out of the cab and heading toward the door to Baker Street.  
“Let me go see if Mrs. Hudson is available. John, why don’t you show Lorn our place while I check.” he said slipping past them and heading up the stairs.  
John gave a snort, “Yes, he’s always like that.” making Lorn laugh softly, pulling the sadness out of her eyes for a moment, he would have to think of some small thing he could do for John, maybe another pair of gloves, John was always giving his to the homeless. Returning to their apartment with Mrs. Hudson he joined them in the living room where Lorn was perusing his bookshelves. She pulled one from the shelf as he approached, “Can I borrow this one?” she asked showing him the cover. It was one of his on how to set up an apiary.  
“Of course.” he said, earning him a smile and she held the book to her chest like it was precious as she talked to Mrs. Hudson and was taken upstairs to view the apartment.  
“I am afraid it is only a one bedroom, my dear.” Mrs Hudson said.  
“There’s only me so a one bedroom would be perfect, Mrs. Hudson.” The apartment was only a small living room, kitchen, bath and bedroom but it was more than enough for just her. “I might have to bring some books shelves in since my last place had built ins but it should work.” she said happily. “How much would you take for a deposit?” she asked pulling out her checkbook. “  
Mrs. Hudson named the figure and Lorn doubled it, “Consider this my first month’s rent as well. I should be able to get moved in next weekend if that is alright?”  
“Are the boys going to be helping you move?” she asked as they re-entered Sherlock and John’s apartment, she eyed Sherlock as if trying to picture him shoving a couch up the stairs. Lorn laughed delighted at the older woman’s face.  
“No, I have a friend with moving company who owes me a favor. I’ll give him a call tomorrow.”  
“How lucky, let me go fetch the key for you dear.”  
“We might have to throw you a welcoming party if were not busy.” John said with a laugh.  
Lorn shuddered, “Oh God, no. I hate those kind of things. Endless random chatter about the latest thing their child or pet did. I avoid things like that, I always wind up sitting in a corner slowly getting drunk.”  
“Well, you would get along with Sherlock grand, he sits in the corner deducing who has been sleeping with whom all night. We actually were going to invite you to a party a friend of ours was throwing in a few weeks, just friends from the police force and Barts. Lestrade is getting an award so we said we would go for moral support.”  
“Depends, is there dancing? I am rather bad but I do enjoy it.” Lorn asked.  
John glanced at Sherlock raising an eyebrow, “There was dancing at the last award banquet so I don’t think they would break that tradition.” Sherlock rumbled in his low voice.  
“Moral support is always a worthy cause even without dancing,” Lorn said with a grin, “Count me in.”


	4. Tough Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lorn has a night out and Sherlock and John tag along.

***

Lorn had been moved in a week when they caught her in the foyer pulling on her gloves about to go out.  
“Headed out?” John asked pleasantly. Sherlock ignoring the inane conversation grinned as the bits of information about her dress and stance fell into place.  
“Just waiting on my cab.”  
“Do you mind if we come with? I think John and I can do with a night out after the last case.” he asked with a grin. Lorn saw right through it which was one of the reasons he was coming to enjoy being around her.  
“You are both welcome to come but one sarcastic comment from you Sherlock and I will eviscerate the both of you.”  
“Hey, why am I included in that?” John asked as they climbed into the taxi.  
“Because you are one of the few people he would not want to see hurt, I could eviscerate him with a dull spoon and he would stand there and smirk at me.” Lorn said grabbing John’s arm and ducking under it to cuddle against his side as she rattled off the address of the club to the cabbie.  
“You two grab a table. I have to talk to someone.” she said, heading into the back of the building after handing her coat to the bartender to leave behind the bar. It was still early and the bar was still slowly filling up. John admired Lorn’s back and legs, shown off by her tight fitting red dress and high heels.  
“So what exactly are we doing here?” John asked taking a sip of his beer as his eyes wandered over the other tables. The layout was closer to a jazz club than a dance floor.  
“Lorn is performing tonight as a favor to a friend, the least we could do was come and support her.” Sherlock said with a smirk.  
“Performing...she’s singing?” John asked, craning his neck to try and spot the red dress to no avail.  
“I would guess so, but she does play guitar to a small extent so it might be that as well.” Sherlock mused as he dissected the professions and affairs of the couples around them.

The band came out and set up quickly, the young pianist introducing the band and thanking Lorn for filling in for their singer last minute. Lorn gave a brittle smile as he asked everyone to go easy on her since they had only had one hour of practice. Lorn leaned forward into the mic and moaned low in her throat as the piano began. She sang “I put a spell on you” and “Turn me on” by Nina Simone before the pianist handed her a new stack of sheet music. She made a slight face and leaned down to demand something, one hand covering his mic. She gave him a look of disgust before stalking over to her mic and pulling it off the stand, turning she went back to the piano, stepping up onto the bench and seating herself on the lid one hand snatching off the pianist's fedora as she passed, placing it at a rakish angle on her head. What came next was flat out burlesque. Lorn roared her way through “Tough lover” and “A man who takes his time” teasing with the pianists hair and stalking around the stage to throw sultry looks to the band members and audience.  
She was incandescent, none of the men in the place could look away from her. John watched utterly stunned barely remembering to clap. It all fell apart however when they finished the last song and announced a quick break. A man near the wall started cat calling Lorn, as soon as she glanced up her face lost its smile going pale and she turned and left the stage.

The rest of the show was off as the man continued to needle her after each song leaving Lorn tense and without that roaring abandon that had filled the first half. When they finished the last song Lorn fled the stage as Sherlock nudged John and headed back to meet her, something was wrong. Backstage they emerged to find her in tears, wiping her eyes as she tried to pull herself together.  
“Hey, you alright?” John asked softly, “Need anything?”  
“I’m fine.” she said tossing the tissues away. “The asshole in the audience is an ex-boyfriend.” she said with a brittle smile.  
“Well, if you need us to punch him, just say the word.” John said getting a broken laugh in response.  
“Already done that, thanks.” she said laughing. “Think I could convince one of you to play the boyfriend for long enough to get me out of here? I really don’t want to have to deal with him tonight.”  
“Why pretend?” Sherlock asked, offering his arm. “You have two men at your disposal for the night.” he said, making John’s ears go red as he choked on his response. Lorn patted his back for a moment, with a wry smile, her eyes telling Sherlock how cute she thought John was in his shyness. She linked her arm through Sherlock’s and led the way back into the crowded bar, the idiot of course was waiting for her.

"Hey Hun, that was amazing." He said, eyeing Lorn's dress where it dipped between her breasts. Sherlock stayed to one side waiting to see how this would play out, John was just a few steps behind and would step in if needed.

"Sorry, Daniel. I'm on my way out." Lorn said her voice clipped as she tried to slid past him. Her reached out and grabbed her bicep leaning forward to whisper in her ear.

"Come on Hun, don't be like that, you know you want to play."

"Let go, Daniel, before I break your nose for a second time." Lorn said flatly, her lips in a thin line. John slid up with an "Excuse me." forcing the guy to release Lorn as he slid and arm around her waist, "Ready to go, Lorn?" he asked eyes hard as he watched Daniel. 

"What, don't tell me your out with him?" Daniel said with a sniff taking in John with his leather jacket and jumper. "Not really your type is it?"

Lorn gave a snort at that, "Honestly, your the one who was not my type. Come on, John, let's go." she said her voice low and tired. Sherlocked stepped up to trail behind as the left.

"What, can't replace me with one guy so you got to have two? What are they, fags who let you watch?" Daniel demanded, a small crowd was gathering around them as Sherlock turned back with a sneer.

"John, if you chin him, I am not bailing you out of jail." Lorn said low before turning back to Daniel. "Daniel, trust me, they are a thousand time better in bed then you ever were. 'Lock, come on, leave him. You have better things to be investigating then to see how many teeth you can make him spit out. No one's allowed to punch the git but me and I don't want to ruin my nails tonight." She kept one hand in John's as she slid a hand under Sherlock's coat to rest against his lower back letting her nails scratch against the fabric for a moment to draw his eyes to hers. He glanced down and saw the pain and tightness around her eyes, it was costing her to stand her and deal with this jerk.

"Very well, John..." he said with a small gesture, letting John wrap an arm around her and lead her out of the club. Sherlock turned back and gave Daniel a feral smile before kneeing him in the gut, he took the second blow to the chin snapping his head back and laying him out cold. Sherlock straightened his coat and turned with a flurish before heading out to catch John and Lorn as they got into a waiting taxi.

"What happened to me being the only one allowed to punch him?" Lorn asked with a small smile as the two men as the cab left the curb.

"Who said I punched him?" Sherlock said with an answering smile as John pulled her against his side letting her lean her head against his shoulder. She stayed there until they reached Baker Street, giving John a kiss on the cheek she headed up to her room for the night alone.


	5. Dancing

***

Two weeks later John went up the stair to fetch Lorn for the award ceremony and forgot to breath for a moment. Lorn was coming down the stairs, carrying her coat and scarf, she wore a black evening gown that clung to every curve before flaring out over her legs in soft pleats. She had done her hair and makeup, her lips a dark garnet, while a soft scent of perfume floated around her almost on the edge of being sensed.  
He forced himself to swallow and step back, “The taxi’s here.”  
“Right on time then.” she said, carefully descending the last few steps in her heels.  
“Allow me.” Sherlock said stepping forward and helping her into her coat while John made his way outside to hold the door of the cab open for her.  
Once they arrived, Sherlock quickly paid the cabby and exited staying just in front of them so that John was forced to offer his arm to Lorn to lead her in and to their table.  
“Does he think I am going to ruin his reputation?” Lorn asked softly, watching the taller man’s stiff backed stance as they waited for the crowd to disperse near the doors.  
“No idea, but my best guess is that he does not want Anderson or Donovan to get a dig in against you. They have a history of cutting remarks at every opportunity.”  
“And Sherlock gives as good as he gets?”  
“Worse.” John said with a grimace.   
“Good.” Lorn said firmly, “I hate bullies.”  
“Ah, Lorn, I would like to introduce you to Molly Hooper, she works in the morgue at Barts.” John said quickly as Molly came up.  
“Wonderful to meet you, Molly.” They chit chatted about Barts and how the work in the morgue was going, slow, until they could join Sherlock at the table. He had already gotten them drinks. John apologized to Molly and ran to get her one as well when he discovered she was nursing the dregs of her last glass. Molly pointed out a few others who she knew until the award ceremony began. She fell silent and Lorn turned to Sherlock and they began picking apart each of the speaker, excepting Lestrade of course. The awards and speeches done the music was turned on and the dance floor slowly began to fill up. Sherlock stood and offered a hand to Lorn, making Molly choke on her punch.  
“Care to dance?”  
“Thank you, kind sir.” Lorn said with a smirk and followed him out onto the floor to the horror of most of the room. John offered his hand to Molly and followed them onto the floor. John and Molly slow danced for a song or two before retiring to the edge to watch Lorn and Sherlock. There were the occasional hitches as Lorn fought to lengthen her stride to match her partner for the first song then they both seemed to hit their stride, gliding around the room like it was an improvised ballroom.  
“Damn,” Lestrade muttered, “I thought she was your date, John?”  
“She’s our neighbor, moved in last weekend.” John replied as Lorn took one of Sherlock’s hands and led him off the floor straight to John.  
“Your turn, Johny boy, can’t let Sherlock have all the fun can we?” she asked her face flushed and eyes sparkling.  
“Never.” He agreed, taking her hand and leading her back onto the floor. They were of a height with Lorn in her heels.   
“I’m not much of a dancer.” John warned her.  
“Sherlock just about danced my feet off so I won't be much of one for the rest of the night. How about a few slow dances, sound ok?”  
“Sounds lovely.” John agreed as she wrapped her arms around his back and rested her head against his shoulder and they slowly swayed to the music. Lorn was a good dancer however and her body swayed in perfect time, forcing John to sync up as she slowly guided the dance till they were moving in a slow small box step. The next song was a faster number and Lorn shifted back out of his embrace slightly, “Trust me?” she asked.  
“What are you thinking?”  
“Ever done any latin dancing?’   
“Oh, god, you're serious? No.”   
“Just follow my lead, you’ll do great.” she said stepping back and starting the faster steps of a mambo to the music. She kept her hands against his arms as she guided him stumbling through the steps a few times. Once he was doing ok, she guided his hands back to her shoulder and him let him lead, one hand softly tapping out the beat against his shoulder. They were both giggling by the time the song ended. He blew out a breath as she curled back into his arms, letting him lead the slower dance.

The gossips were full force as Sherlock retired to lean against the wall sipping his drink watching the other two slowly circle the floor. He watched most of the police force watching John with an open mouth with the occasional glance back his way. It might be worth having this arrangement simply to watch most of their heads explode when they found out the truth. A few dances later they retired from the dance floor grabbing a drink and joining Sherlock against the wall.  
“Having fun?” Lorn queried with a small smirk eying the more blatant gossipers as she leaned against the detective. Sherlock simply smirked in return and stole her punch for a sip before giving it back. You could almost hear the gasps from where they stood.  
“If I had known it would be this entertaining I would have double dated before.” he murmured into her ear. Lorn fanned herself and managed to suppress a shudder at that low baritone whispering in her ear. Lestrade and a few others approached preventing her response.  
“Christ, when did the two of you learn how to dance?” Lestrade asked. Sherlock simply raised an eyebrow silently asking if he really wanted to know. They all flinched as Anderson’s voice washed over them.  
“What I want to know is how much they are paying her to be their date?”

Lorn shifted slightly in front of Sherlock, wrapping one arm around his waist before asking in perfect french, “Has he always been this stupid or is it a medical condition. No one can really be that socially inept.” Sherlock’s face split into a grin at this responding in french, “Must be a genetic issue, he has always been this way I am afraid.”  
“Hey, don’t be talking gibberish about me!” Anderson demanded.  
“Excuse me.” Lorn interrupted, “You are the one who came and started insulting us. I was merely asking Sherlock if you were always this stupid or if it was a medical condition because no one in polite society would be allowed to have such atrocious manners. Now if you'll excuse me, gentlemen. I feel the need for some air. Molly would you mind accompanying me?”  
“Of course.” Molly sputtered quickly following the other woman as she stalked regally across the floor.  
“Are you really that thick, Anderson! She happens to be a neighbor of John and Sherlock’s who had never heard a word about you and the first thing out of your mouth is an insult. Are you drunk because frankly that is the only excuse I can see for you treating a woman the way you just did.” Lestrade snarled. Donovan drew Anderson away arguing with him all the way. A few minutes later Molly and Lorn returned bearing small plates of orderves which Lorn then shared with John. Everyone started leaving soon after so they soon headed back to Baker’s street themselves.

Lorn paused at the landing next to their door. Stepping up to John she drew him into a quick kiss, that slowly deepened for a moment before she drew back.  
“I know you two are still considering but if we are going to make a go of this than you need to consider some ground rules.” Sherlock opened his mouth to interrupt but Lorn beat him to the punch, “Which we will discuss tomorrow. Lunch?”  
“Sounds good.” John agreed for both of them. Lorn turned to Sherlock, tilting her head back, “Good night kiss?” she asked softly, waiting as he hesitantly bent down to meet her, the kiss ended with her teeth nipping his lip and her hands stroking against his hips through his shirt and slacks. “Good night Lorn.” He stayed cradling her shoulders for a moment before releasing her and straightening.


	6. Discussions and Demontrations

***

“So...rules.” Lorn prompted as they sat nibbling carry out.  
“The work comes first.” John said, taking a sip of his beer, it was a bit early to be drinking but none of them had anywhere to be until Monday morning and this kind of conversation necessitated liquor. Lorn had disappeared upstairs after eying the beer and returning with a fairly good bottle of scotch that she was sharing with Sherlock.  
“Agreed.” Sherlock rumbled.  
“I get that.” Lorn said, with a nod. “You too are committed to the job, if we are on a date or something and something for the case happens then I will understand you having to leave. Helping keep people alive is more important than dinners and such. Rule two, no jealousies. You have an issue you tell us about it. No secrets. You have an issue with something or dislike something then you say something about it.”  
“Agreed.” John said taking another sip of beer.  
“Anything you flat out refuse to do? Sex related or otherwise? Anything you dislike?”  
When she was only greeted with embarrassed silence she began making suggestions.  
“Wearing girl’s panties? Whips and chains?” she asked with a smirk.  
“No way in hell.” John burst out making Lorn laugh.  
“We can come back to this but I can give you mine.” she said taking a sip of her drink and setting the glass back down on the table. “I refuse to do anything with bodily fluids that should stay in the bathroom. I have done a fair bit of kink but I don’t like pain in the bedroom beyond biting and pulling hair. No blood play, no wounds. I don’t mind being restrained or tied up but as soon as the sex is over I want to be released, no being left hanging.” Pulling one sleeve up she rubbed her thumb across a scar there, “As you have probably guessed I had a bad childhood. I don’t react well to fighting or violence. When people start screaming at me I walk away until everyone is calm enough to talk rationally. If you cannot deal with that we might as well stop here.”  
“I have no issues with having a rational argument.” Sherlock said after a moment, John agreeing with a quick yes a beat later.  
“That’s all I had. We can always add to the rules later.” Lorn poured herself another small scotch and offered the bottle to Sherlock who added a small amount to his glass. Knocking back her glass like a shot she set it to one side. “So the question now is how do you want to continue this relationship. Keep going slow and see how it winds up or go straight to cuddles on the couch and an occasional snog?”

John was on his fourth beer, his mouth responding before his brain kicked in, “I would not say no to cuddles.” popping out before he could stop it. He glanced at Sherlock with a small wince but the younger man just gave a small smirk and stood, walking to the couch and taking a seat at one end. Lorn followed a moment later, leaning against his side. John chugged the last of his beer for courage and joined them, Lorn pressed in a tight line between them on the small couch. Sherlock began stroking one hand through her hair in an absent matter and they simply sat there for a while watching some bland movie that was on. Lorn suddenly shifted, laying across them so that her head was pillowed on John’s thigh and her legs pressed against Sherlock’s lap. Suddenly she burst out laughing and fell off the couch.  
Sherlock gave a rather evil grin, “Did you know Lorn’s feet were ticklish, John?”

John grinned in response, knowing where this was going, “No, Sherlock, I did not.” Lorn dissolved into shrieks of laughter and panted threats as the two larger men tried to tickle every part of her body they could reach. They all lay on the carpet, the two men crouched above her on all fours while Lorn gasped for air, tears leaking from her eyes. Sherlock suddenly leaned forward and licked one of those tears from her skin making her gasp for a completely different reason before pulling back to sit propped against the couch watching the other two. John glanced at him uncertain Sherlock simply sat there watching the other two breath heavily. He turned back to Lorn and slowly lowering himself to press against her body as his mouth met hers. It quickly went from a gentle kiss to outright groping and grinding against each other. Lorn flipped them over suddenly knocking the breath out of John before giving him a last lingering kiss and standing and returning to the couch offering one hand to Sherlock. Sherlock turned and knelt between her legs, hands stroking her thighs.  
“What do you want to do?” She asked softly stroking Sherlock's neck and collarbones with one hand while running the other through his thick black curls.  
“I want to kiss you.” Sherlock rumbled, his voice rough and low. Lorn gripped the back of his neck a bit tighter, just enough to distract and pulled him closer to her, barely an inch separating their lips.  
Leaning forward and sucking his earlobe into her mouth, letting the edges of her teeth graze it , “Then do what you want.” she whispered, breath cool against the wet flesh. He lunged forward kissing her hard, till they knocked teeth for an instant and he was forced to back off for a breath. Sherlock snarled and with a violent twist pulled her off the couch and onto the floor, letting John catch her head and shoulders, he collapsed against her, hands fisted in her shirt, his knee hard between her legs and he ripped her shirt open and bit down against the swell of one breast. Lorn gasped arching into the sensation, one hand still tangled in his curls while the other reached behind her to John who caught it and held it in a tight grip for a moment before placing slow kisses against her knuckles and fingertips. Sherlock pulled down on cup of her black bra before taking her nipple in his mouth drawing a moan from her throat that had John cursing softly behind her. Lorn bucked and twisted against the assault, as Sherlock drew back for a moment only to turn to the next breast and start all over. Lorn pulled her hand away and slid it down the body behind her until she was able to clumsily stroke John’s hard cock through his jeans. Cursing, his hands slid along her skin, cupping the unattended breast and kneading and pulling at the nipple. His other hand cupped her head and tilted it back so they could kiss but the angle was too awkward.  
“Fuck, Sherlock. The couch...” John gasped drawing away his chest heaving. Sherlock had scooped up the woman and set her back on the couch before he could make his brain format a full sentence. John fought with his jumper and undershirt until he was bare chested before moving forward to help Lorn out of her shirt and bra.  
“Sherlock, shirt.” he said nodding to where the other man was still fully dressed if rather rumpled. Sherlock began quickly undid his cuffs and the first button or two before pulling the entire shirt off over his head in one smooth motion. Lorn lay before the two men topless and lips swollen. Reaching out she palmed each of their hard lengths through their pants making them shudder.  
“How do we want to do this?” She asked pulling away so they had a moment to think.  
“What do you want?” Sherlock asked his eyes trailing across the marks he had left on her skin.  
“I want someone’s cock in my mouth, the rest is up to you.” she said . John’s soft moaned, “Christ.” made up his mind.  
“John, you kneel on the couch and take her mouth, I want to taste you.” Sherlock said fingers already undoing her belt and sliding down the zipper with a rasp of sound. He fought off her boots and tugged the jeans all the way off revealing that she was not wearing any underwear.John was standing shuking his own jeans when he suddenly stopped and went and locked and chained the door.  
“If Mrs. Hudson came in right now I am not sure what I would do.” he muttered pulling his shoes off and then letting his jeans puddle on the floor. Lorn tugged him against her placing a kiss against his chest . He ducked in for another kiss before she pulled back and shifted lower on the couch spreading her legs for Sherlock as she took John in her mouth sucking and rolling the end of him along her tongue. John moaned and gripped the top edge of the couch with one hand while stroking her hair with the other. “Gods, Lorn.”   
Sherlock nudged her legs a bit farther apart as he knelt between them, cheek pressed against her knee as he stroked the dark curls nestled between her legs. Leaning in he pressed a chaste kiss to the soft upper mound as he inhaled her scent before parting her folds with his fingers he stroked with both hands for a moment to the soft sucking sounds of the blow job above him. He withdrew one hand and smelled her juices, he waited till she glanced his way before slipping one finger in his mouth and rolling the taste of her along his tongue drawing a moan from her throat as her hips bucked against his hand. Ducking his head he ran his tongue along her folds in firm strokes before capturing her clit and sucking for a moment, rolling the soft knob against his lips. Lorn whimpered against John’s cock before she drew away for a moment breathing hard, muscles twitching before she ducked and began sucking at the vein running along the bottom of John’s cock. He thrust his tongue as far as he could with in her, in and out, rolling it in a circle, withdrawing to lath against the clit again before returning lower to nip and bite softly at her labia. Lorn moaned and gasped fighting to continue licking along John’s cock as her entire body twitched and buck against his labors. He slowed down slightly letting her resume the blow job, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked hard against the cock in her mouth, stroking the underside with her tongue and probing the slit with each withdrawal. John was soon moaning and cursing above her his muscular yet stocky body stretched tight.  
“Jesus, Lorn. Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Lorn redoubled her efforts at this as John gave up and began fucking her mouth in earnest, muscles in his legs and hips clenching and releasing with each push. He gripped the edge of the couch with both hands as with a shudder his body arched as he spilled himself down Lorn’s throat. After he managed to unlock his knees he collapsed to sit on the couch, pulling Lorn in for a kiss before she pulled away with a moan as Sherlock redoubled his efforts. John shifter her slightly to lay against his chest so he could knead and pull at her breasts and nipples while Sherlock rooted against her body like a toddler with a lollie. The wet noise of sucking and Lorn’s moans filled the flat making John’s spent cock twitch against her back, he unconsciously began rocking against her as she bucked her hips against the lips and teeth grinding into her cunt.  
“Sherlock!” she moaned, gripping his curls in fists as she came, her body shuddering and bucking for several minutes. She had barely blinked the stars from her eyes before she was being pulled down to the ground and Sherlock was kneeling between her legs fighting to get a condom on his length before he plunged to the hilt inside of her drawing a gruntle cry from her throat as he pounded out his release between her legs gripping one hip and shoulder and he fought to keep her in place and she fought to thrust back against him meeting each thrust with a slap of flesh meeting flesh. 

John realized with a jerk he was hard again, twitching against his hand as he watched Sherlock ‘s pale body trust against Lorn, obscene moan’s ringing from her throat. Sherlock came with a rough shout crushing her against his chest for a moment before pulling away. He scrambled for something next to him before tossing it to John and removing the condom and collapsing on the opposite end of the couch.  
“Damn, you boys are going to be the death of me.” Lorn said with a grin, rising and taking the condom from John and pressing him back into the couch. tearing open the foil she slowly slid it down John’s cock, encasing it’s thick length in latex before straddling his lap and slowly easing him inside.   
“Always did like missionary with a man my height.” she said against his ear as she began to roll her hips, slowly riding his cock in a sliding grinding dance. He drew her face around for a kiss tongues thrusting in time with their bodies, mapping the interiors of each other’s mouths as he gripped her hips and pulled her against him as he thrust up to seat himself deep within her body. Lorn reached between them and ground her fingers against her clit, noticing Sherlock watching she locked eyes with him as she fingered herself arching her back and neck as her body bounced with each thrust. It did not take long for her to come, collapsing against John’s body as she shuddered and gasped in his ear, a few thrusts later he joined her.


	7. Boredom and Flashbacks

***

After that their relationship continued in a similar fashion. Cuddles on the couch with John while he watched crap TV or reading while Sherlock played violin. Sex only really happened when they were between cases, during cases Lorn would be there if they needed her but for the most part her life went on a normal. There were of course the random nights where Sherlock would drag her out of bed to sit her on the couch and listen while he ranted and postulated about the current case.

The more dangerous times were when Sherlock had been without a case for several weeks, then he started to get inventive in bed as well as outside of it. John finally had to intervene after walking in to find Lorn tied down to the bed, blindfolded and gagged, while Sherlock tormented her with various vibrators. Her body was drawn into a tight line as she gasped for air in whimpering hitches.  
“Christ, Sherlock. How long have you been at this?” Sherlock ignored him reaching out to pinch one of her nipples.  
“Sherlock! How long?”  
“Few hours.” Sherlock muttered twisting a toy making Lorn convulse.  
“Shit. Time to stop. Look at her Sherlock, really look at her, it’s enough.” John snapped as he worked at the bonds holding her hands to the bedframe. Sherlock frowned yet pulled out the toys and gathered the scissors he had set to the side. he slid them carefully against the gag intending to cut it but Lorn suddenly gagged and began fighting both of them. She scrambled away hitting the wall and the foot of the bed and crouching there ripping at the gag to remove it.  
“Lorn...” John said concerned, only for her to curl tighter against the wall sobbing and gasping “No, please.” over and over.  
“Shit. Sherlock, lose the scissors.” he said crawling down the bed until he was next to Lorn, a small touch of his hand resulted in a shriek as Lorn’s entire body shook with hysterical sobs. “Shhh, it’s ok, it’s me John. No one’s going to hurt you here, you know that. Hey, look at me, it’s John. Were at Baker street in your bedroom remember?” he continued on like this rambling until she slowly began to breathe slower and start to uncurl.  
“John?’ she said sounding confused.  
“Yes, it’s us, John and Sherlock.” He said glancing back to where Sherlock was still frozen against the other end of the bed. Lorn slowly twisted till she was sitting propped against the wall, legs out straight across the middle of the bed. John shifted to join her as she rubbed at her face and finger combed her hair away from her face. John pulled the comforter up from the floor and Lorn convulsively grabbed it and pulled it across her body.   
“You up to talking about it?” John asked as he rubbed her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her loosely.  
“It wasn’t the toys or anything.” she said slowly giving Sherlock a small weak smile as he slid toward her otherside and sat indian style facing them. “It was the scissors, the feel of the metal on my cheek.” she paused, eyes closed as she fought with herself for a few breathes. “I’m sorry, Sherlock, it’s not your fault, I told you I had a crap childhood.” she said with a high pitched laugh. “I have not had a flashback that bad in years and years.”  
“You need anything?” John asked softly, the doctor in him refusing to leave her in pain.  
“Can you just hold me for awhile?” she asked her voice high and breaking. They curled around her holding her tight between them as she cried herself to sleep.

***


	8. Anderson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interlude with Anderson and Lestrade stopping by. (Short scene that is stuck in my head.)

***

Their world returned to normal after that though they were all a little careful with each other for a few weeks. They swept into the flat two months later trailing Lestrade and Anderson only to find Lorn in a tee shirt and sweatpants going through the slow motions of Tai Chi to one side of the room. She gave no indication that she heard them as she continued her practice. John moved to the kitchen to start the kettle as Sherlock and Lestrade gathered up the files they needed from the desk. 

A sudden yelp of pain spun them all around in time to watch Lorn throw Anderson to the ground in one smooth motion. Lorn had Anderson on the ground, one hand gripping his throat the other gripping his head, the thumb hovering over his eye. Abruptly she released him and stood.  
“Are you insane!” she demanded, kicking the downed man in the leg, “Don’t you know better than to grab someone who is in the middle of practicing martial arts?”  
“You alright, Lorn?” John asked, eyeing the clearly pissed off woman.  
“Sherlock, I know he works with you or something but if he touches me again I am going to permanently relocate his balls to his abdomen.” she snapped, walking to the chair and gathering her bag and coat.  
“Lestrade, aren't you going to do something, she attacked me! Arrest her!”  
“You're a cop?” Lorn demanded glaring at Anderson.  
“Forensics.” Anderson said pulling himself to his feet, and brushing himself off.  
“Well, now I know why they are always calling Sherlock for help. I feel so safe.” Lorn snapped. “Sherlock, John, thank you for loaning me the space for a practice area but I think I am going to try and find a nearby dojo.” she said, “One without idiot cops. If you will excuse me gentlemen.” she said heading out the door.

Once Anderson’s feathers had been calmed, he and Lestrade left heading back to the station.  
“Please tell me you go that on video?” John asked handing Sherlock a cup of tea.  
“Already texted it to everyone in the station.” They both broke down into giggles as they settled in for the night.


	9. Play

***

Lorn gave a small hum of happiness and leaned up to catch John’s mouth again. Sherlock was downstairs playing violin as the other two slowly ground and teased each other in John’s room. Vivaldi and Brahms filtered through the floor and cracks around the door. She lay clad in only bra and panties while John had stripped to his boxers. She wrapped her arms around his hips pulling him closer as the kiss went on slow and teasing. She licked her way to his jaw nipping a line to his ear before sucking and teasing the lobe with her teeth. John cursed bucking against her, grinding his erection into her hip.  
“I want to be in you.” John rasped, biting the juncture between her neck and shoulder making her arch, breasts pressing against his chest as her nails left marks on his lower back.  
“God, yes.” she gasped, grinning up at him when he drew back.  
He struggled out of his boxers as she unhooked her bra and tossed it off the bed making him chuckle. He tossed a condom on the bed next to her before stroking his way down her body to her hips to slowly peel off the black undergarments off her iliac crest and down her legs letting them fall somewhere behind him as he kissed his way back up her body.

Lorn pulled him down next to her and straddled his hips giving him a chaste kiss on the lips before turning, pushing him flat on his back and kissing the scar on his shoulder. She trailed lips and tongue along the web of scars that crazed the skin of his shoulder, seeming determined to deduce if scar tissue tasted different than regular skin. John nearly had tears in his eyes as she worshipped his scar with her mouth. Finally he managed to gasp, “Enough.” twisting his hips and tucking her back under him. He kissed her like he wanted to climb inside of her body.  
Pulling away he quickly fitted the condom on his aching cock and slowly sank into the heat between her legs with a hiss. He started a slow pull and push intending to take his time but Lorn seemed to have learned every spot on his body that made him lose control. Soon he was pounding against her before coming with a sudden shout as Lorn bit his collar bone hard enough to bruise. Once he got his body back under control he pulled out and collapsed to the side tucking the condom in his tee shirt to dispose of later.  
“Sorry, you didn't come, did you?”  
“No, but that doesn't mean I didn't enjoy It.” she said with a smirk.  
“Maybe I can help with that.” Sherlock said from the doorway violin and bow still cradled in one hand. Lorn glanced at John with a raised eyebrow. He gave a short nod and pulled away, moving to sit at the headboard and placing a pillow in his lap.

Lorn gave him a small grin and settled with her head in his lap, hands caressing John’s ankles as Sherlock undressed.  
Sherlock crawled between her legs and lay on his stomach mouth teasing one nipple as his hands stroked against her hips. His dark curls rubbed against John’s leg making him twitch. Sherlock shifted higher as he teased the woman under him, placing bites and sucking kisses along her neck and shoulders. The random touches and brushes of skin against his legs made John’s breath hitch. Sherlock seemed intent on taking his time as Lorn’s head was pressed into the pillow and against John’s crotch firmly as he moved to up to lazily kiss Lorn’s mouth, tongue mapping it’s contours making Lorn shift and give soft hums of happiness. John reached out hesitantly and slid one hand around Lorn’s ribs to cup and knead at one breast. The wet sounds of their kissing and the sight of Lorn’s arms and legs stroking and clutching at Sherlock’s body made his breath catch. She left red trails along his back and hips as her nails trailed down his pale skin. Sherlock drew back with a gasp, pushing himself up on his arms for a moment, body in a tight arch. His pale eyes were blown, pupils swallowing the color, lips dark and swollen. John gave a small moan and moved his other hand to stroke through Lorn’s hair. She turned her head to glance up at him giving him the perfect angle to gaze down at where the two of them lay tangled together, Sherlock’s lean muscled chest hovering against the pinker skin of Lorn’s breasts, one of his hands stroked a thumb along her hip where her legs were wrapped around his waist, a faint line of dark hair disappearing between her legs to meet her dark patch of curls. A soft curse slid from his lips as he felt himself start to harden.

“John.” Sherlock said softly, “Trust me?”  
“Christ, always.” John gasped. Sherlock grabbed Lorn, pulling her up and snatched the pillow out from between them before slotting Lorn flush against John, her back against his chest, his arms automatically sliding around her waist to pull her against him. Sherlock moved closer on his knees edging Lorn higher for a moment so he could settle himself, pulling John’s ankles to bracket Lorn’s where the wrapped around his hips.A soft moan slid from his throat as he slid his cock into Lorn’s wet warmth. Lorn shivered letting her head drop back against John’s shoulder as she ran one hand up to card through Sherlock’s black curls, tugging at the short hairs at the back of his neck making his hiss and arch against her giving a shallow thrust.   
“Lean back, John, relax.” Sherlock rumbled.  
John slid one hand to Lorn’s hip and slowly wrapped his legs more firmly against Sherlock.”Fuck.” he muttered into Lorn’s ear, ducking his head to nip at her neck. Sherlock reached past both of them, his longer arm letting him grab the headboard and lean move of his body across the two under him.  
“God, somebody fucking move.” Lorn moaned, rocking her hips in the small amount of space she had between the two men. Sherlock gave a groan and started to slowly thrust, each push grinding Lorn’s arse against John’s cock. Snaking his left hand between Lorn and Sherlock’s bodies, John slid his hand along Lorn’s flexing muscles until he found her clit. The angle was awkward and he had no room to make any big movements but he was able to press and rub on that slick nub until Lorn began gasping and whimpering between them. He tugged her hips more firmly against his, rocking in time with Sherlock’s slow pace.  
Lorn suddenly twisted and bit at a spot just behind John’s ear making him buck against her eyes falling shut. A mouth suddenly was against his, nipping and sucking at his lips, he groaned and parted his lips sucking their tongue in to deepen the kiss. It was brutal, all tongue and teeth, lips and jaw aching as their bodies thrust against each other. A hand grabbed the back of his neck hard as Sherlock speed up the pace surging hard, the sound of slick flesh striking flesh filling the room. John opened his eyes when he felt Lorn shudder against him, bucking between them as she came. Sherlock’s eyes filled his sight, the man’s lips swollen and face flushed, eyes dark with need as sweat matted curls plastered his forehead. He gasped, thrusting erratically, close to his own orgasm when his eyes locked on John’s. John’s vision went white as he suddenly came hard, Sherlock gasping his name in his ear as he followed a breath later.  
Lorn slid out from between them turning off the lights and returning a moment later with a wet cloth which she used to wipe them each down before pulling a quilt over all three of them and cuddling back between them. A small part of John fought against the fact that he had just been kissing his flatmate but he was too comfortable and sated to fight when Lorn pulled him down to spoon against her back.


	10. Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lorn's past comes back to haunt her.

***

Barely a month later they got to see just how far Lorn’s past would come back to haunt them.

“John?” Mrs. Hudson’s voice rang out over the line, loud and upset. John and Sherlock were out of town on a case.  
“Missus Hudson? Is something wrong?” Her voice was trembling and breaking.  
“John, something happened to Lorn. Her room was all torn up and the blood. I called Detective Inspector Lestrade but I wanted you two to know. No one has seen her in several days. I was out visiting my sister and did not know anything had happened.” he could almost hear her wringing her hands.  
“Don’t worry Missus Hudson, I’ll head back today and see if we can see what happened.”  
“Thank you, John, I know the police are working on it but I would feel better with one of you boys in the house.”sounding small and old for the first time John could remember.  
“I’ll give you a call once I know what time my train will get in. Go get a cup of tea, Missus Hudson; I’m sure you need it.”  
With a curse he hung up and dialed Sherlock’s cell, he was on the other side of town investigating a few leads for the case.  
“Hey, where are you?” he said as soon as the call connected.  
“Downtown, problem?”  
“Lorn’s room at Baker Street was trashed and no one can find her. I’m heading back to the hotel to pack. How long do you see the case taking?”  
“I should be finished in about an hour if all goes to plan, I’ll meet you at the train station.”  
“Alright, see you there.” They were still several hours by train away from home, and Lorn had already been missing for a few days at the least. Rushing he managed to flag a cab and get back to the hotel in record time. Stuffing their things into bags he checked out and caught another cab to the station. Settling on a bench he shot off a few texts to Lestrade and another to Sherlock letting him know he was at the station. An hour later they were heading back to London, Sherlock having wrapped up the case in record time after he took his version of the kid gloves off and made four suspects cry.  
“I know we needed to hurry back but you could have been a bit nicer. At this rate we’re going to get sued by the family instead of being paid.” John said finally getting the victim’s wife to stop cursing him out and hang up. Sherlock ignored him, trying to get his laptop to upload the crime scene photos that Lestrade had sent him while texting one handed on his phone.

Arriving at Baker Street Sherlock went straight to their rooms while John trooped up the stairs to Lorn’s apartment. Lestrade was there waiting for him.  
“Forensics has already been and gone. We are waiting on DNA for the blood but our best guess is that it’s Lorn’s.”  
“Christ.” John muttered looking about the room. The front door had been kicked in, smears of blood spotted the walls and floor along with shards of glass and ceramic from various objects around the flat that had been shattered and used as weapons.  
“She’s been acting a bit off for a month or so. Tense, taking lots of extra classes at the dojo.” John said making his way into the bedroom where the fight appeared to have climaxed. A bloody handprint about Lorn’s size marked the wall next to the door. The sheets were torn and ripped, probably used for bindings.  
“If they tied her up, she was still alive when they took her.” John said clearing his throat, trying to not picture an unconscious Lorn being carted out of the building with no one noticing. Sherlock came in and handed Lestrade a folder.  
“Here’s everything I have on Lorn, her real name and medical history.”  
“Real name?” Lestrade asked flipping open the file.  
“Mycroft had her investigated after she moved in. I have not read it yet and would like it back when you are finished.”he said over his shoulder as he moved farther into the apartment.  
“Sherlock, how good would you say Lorn was in defending herself?” John asked, eying the mess, “How many attackers do you reckon?”  
“Two attackers, both much larger than Lorn. She was very good at defending herself; it’s what she trained for. She fought dirty, most of the blood smears are from her attackers, I would wager. Did you find the knife she used?”he asked turning to glance at Lestrade.  
“No, there wasn’t a knife.” Lestrade said, flipping through the rest of the chart. “Christ, her medical reads like a slasher movie victim.”  
“We knew she had a bad childhood and was scarred from it.” John added. “Sherlock, you said she prepared for this, right? What are we missing? She had a knife. If it was me I would have hidden weapons all over the flat. Plus if I knew someone was coming I would have had a quick getaway planned as well.”  
“She did.” Sherlock muttered examining the handprint with a magnifying glass. “Knives are hidden all over the flat. Probably did not trust in having a gun lying around, not comfortable enough using them but she was fond of knives. Three in the couch, two under the mattress and headboard of the bed, in the bookshelves and bathroom, anywhere she could get quick access to one.” he said pulling a small knife from the chair in the corner and handing it to Lestrade.  
“Why knives?” John asked, eyeing the mess. “With her childhood I would think the last thing she would want would be more knives around her.”  
“John, think about it. Look at Lorn, she built her entire life around defying her past. She turned her scars into art and her body into a weapon. She wears lockpicks around her neck on a necklace, has had all her belts custom made so that the buckle is also a knife. She prepared for this. She took the knives that had hurt her as a child and learned to use them so that they would not have control of her. She embraced her fears until they had no hold on her.”  
“Christ.” Lestrade muttered.  
“The real question is where did she hide her stash.”  
“What stash?” Lestrade asked watching the tall detective hunting through the bedroom, “Was she into drugs?”  
“Not that kind of stash, Lestrade. She had to be ready at all times to cut and run. That means having a bag packed and ready cash so that she does not leave a trace behind.” John pulled a bag out from under the bed. “Good, emergency bag... so the stash is...here.” he exclaimed prying at a wall vent which popped out with no resistance and removing a box from the hole. Setting it on the bed he opened it and began rifling through the contents.  
“Fake IDs and passports, cash, personal items she did not want to leave.” he turned in a circle eying the rest of the room, striding to the desk he began searching drawers. With a rip of tape he pulled something from underneath the desk, a zip lock bag full of papers.  
“Smart girl.” he said opening the bag and dumping the contents on the bed. “There, that’s what spooked her.” he said handing Lestrade a news clipping.  
“Prisoners escape from US prison in Georgia. Shit, Adams was her last name.” he scrubbed a hand down his face, “Her father, the bastard who killed her mother and carved her up escaped from prison. You think he managed to make it here?” Lestrade asked looking pale.  
“Who else would show up to kidnap someone trying to run from their past?” sherlock muttered, flipping through the rest of the documents.  
“I’ll get an APB out on these two, see if we can get lucky.” Lestrade said, pulling out his phone and stepping into the next room.  
“The blood smears are dry. They have already had her at least two days, probably more like three We were gone six days, she could have been taken anytime in the last four to five days.” he gave a sigh and pulled out his cell. “He is never going to let me live this down.” he muttered as he walked off.  
“Should I even ask?” Lestrade said hanging up his cell.  
“He’s calling Mycroft for the CCV footage for the last few days. He’ll be able to get it faster than you can request it.”  
“Stop being a prick, Mycroft! She has already been missing five days. I would rather get her back before he decides to start carving chunks out of her.” Sherlock shouted, ending the call with a snarl.

***

12 Days Missing.

A week later they finally had a break. All of them looked worn and stressed. They had precious little to go on. Mycroft had found footage of two men entering and leaving Baker Street wearing blue workman's coveralls and carrying a large box. The blood in the apartment had returned as Lorn’s and a second male who had been identified as a recently released prisoner who had shared a cell with Lorn’s father, Mathew Lewis. The homeless network was working overtime scouring the area but the van used had been found in an abandoned warehouse where there were no CCTV to track the next vehicle. Mycroft was still fighting with the US authorities for them to get copies of the files from Lorn’s original attack when she was a child.  
“Thanks for coming in.” Lestrade said, quickly handing out files and popping a CD into the player. “One of the local TV stations turned these in this morning. They didn’t report the tapes being dropped in the mail to them since it was just video of someone sleeping. Well, they finally woke up in the last tape.”  
“You’ve already watched them?” Sherlock asked softly paging through the transcript he had been handed.  
“Yeah, this one. I am pretty sure it’s her but I still need one of you to ID her.”  
“I want to see the other tapes as well.” Sherlock added as the screen came on. “How often are they receiving the tapes?”  
“They have gotten four so far, one every two days or so.”  
The video started, fuzz giving way to show an old cast iron headboard and a body facing away from the camera.   
“Camera’s attached to the footboard, perhaps.” Sherlock mumbled, eyes fixed on the still figure. Lorn lay on a small twin bed, quilts pulled up to her chin. She lay on her back, body loose in sleep. Her jewelry had been removed and she looked pale.  
They sat watching her breath for several minutes before she made a small movement, shifting in her sleep. One arm raised to push at the covers only to stiffen and twist in pain, a whimpered gasp caught by the microphone over the rustling shift of fabric. She lay panting, eyes wide and searching for the threat. She had pushed the covers mostly off her chest showing that she was wearing a tank top. Bruises littered her body, wrapping one wrist in black while her shoulders and the swell of one breast showed bite marks. She sagged, mouth chanting something inaudible, shaking her head as she tried to fight whatever drugs she had been given, needle marks tracked along both inner arms. She pulled herself upright against the headboard with her good hand, revealing the leather cuff and chain that attached her to the bed frame. The blue tank top rode up exposing bandages along one side of her waist. She suddenly stiffened tracking something behind the camera, wrapping her good hand against one of the rails of the headboard as she stared at the camera, a moment later the camera was shut off, static filling the screen.

“So she is aware of who has her and knows that they are taping her. They probably told her, taunting her with it. Doubtful that they know who she is living with, why would they be sending us the videos if they knew we might get clues out of them....Oh! They want to show off. See what I have that you do not. She should start feeding us information if she is awake for the next video. She might have already been, there is the possibility that they are not sending every tape.”  
“Twelve days, twelve tapes?” John asked softly, gesturing for Greg to start the first tape rolling.  
“No, doubtful that they would bother for the first day or two or that if he did Adams would be willing to part with them. More like the last 9 days. Four tapes in 9 days. Why are there tapes missing? We are only seeing half the picture.” Sherlock paced the back of the room as the next tape began, almost an hour of film simply showing Lorn sleeping or drugged.  
“Oh! Of course, sentiment. He is only showing us the good days. The days she is asleep, dressed and cared for. Look at her, tucked in, sheets to her chin, hair tucked behind one ear. He is showing off how perfect she is.”  
John rubbed at one fist, fighting with the need to have something to squeeze the life out of.  
“So four days of rest, five days of torture.” John said with a nod. “Right, I’ll be back.” he snapped stalking out of the room not bothering to shut the door behind him. Sherlock scrubbed his hands through his hair, “Start the next tape. I want to see the other two.” he said bluntly taking a seat, hunched over, eyes fixed on the screen showing Lorn.  
Two hours of film later John returned pacing outside the door for a moment as he finished his call.  
“Right, James Nathan Adams, formerly Gunnery Sergeant Adams in the US Marines. Dishonorably discharged when Lorn was six. I called in a few favors and you should be getting his military records faxed here in the next hour or so. I talked to one of his former commanding officers and he is sending over his records as well, remembered Adams since he was such a prick, apparently. Greg you should be getting a call from the US detective over Lorn’s case when she was eight, he apparently has been trying to track her down since he heard about Adam’s escape.”  
Sherlock watched him with a small smile.  
“You can taunt Mycroft later about how old drinking buddies are better than bureaucrats.” John said giving him a small grim smile in return, “What else do we have?”  
“The house is old, rural. They cannot keep her quiet and drugged all the time so it has to be somewhere with enough distance between houses that shouts will not carry. I moved the homeless network to searching the outskirts of London and outlying areas. If they mailed the first video on day three they cannot be more than a few hours away at most. The longer they were on the road, the more exposed they were. We did not spot them filling up anywhere on the CCTV so we have to assume they only have one tank of gas. Take road conditions and traffic into account at the time of day they would have been traveling and with London rush hours they will not have gotten far, would have had to stop before dark since any drug they would have given her would have been wearing off by then.” Sherlock eyed the large circle he had outlined on the wall map. “The postage marks from the are all from the outer districts, one of the men going out for supplies and dropping them off in a postal box on the way. Sloppy, probably did not want the food to spoil so not traveling more than an hour out of his way, if that.”  
“Lot of ground to cover.” John said, stepping closer to scan the roads running through each area.  
“Let’s see what we can exclude.” Sherlock muttered handing John his phone, “Google the neighborhoods I call out.” an hour later and several text messages to and from the network had narrowed the list to several pie shaped wedges of London.


End file.
